


take me for all i'm worth

by empathieves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 07:10:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10271102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathieves/pseuds/empathieves
Summary: Slowly, like the tide breaking, Draco falls apart under Harry’s hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed porn with feelings I wrote at 3 am in the morning, enjoy.

Draco can feel the edges of Harry’s teeth even through three layers of cloth, expensive garments that right now he couldn’t care less about, his fingers digging into Harry’s shoulders, pressed up against the cool stone wall of his room. He wonders, distantly and a little hysterically, if Harry’s teeth are sharp enough to tear right through his cloak, through his robes and undershirt to mar the skin beneath. He hopes so. He wants it to be true.

Harry doesn’t give him the time to find out, taking his mouth from where it had been clamped above Draco’s collarbone and setting his teeth instead to the high point of Draco’s neck, just under his ear, a spot he knew from experience was an erogenous zone, and he barely had the wherewithal to hold back a moan from just the sense memory of what teeth felt like there. And then they were there, biting down, and he shuddered, moaning low in the back of his throat and clawing at Harry’s back.

He felt Harry’s chuckle more than he heard it, looked down to see a smirk surfacing on Harry’s face that seemed to be a reflection of the one he’d mastered years before when they’d been teenagers, and wasn’t _that_ far more arousing than it should be, than he’d ever thought it could be. Ten years pining over Harry Potter, and it had never occurred to him that Harry had been watching him too, learning his movements and watching his mouth well enough to know how to smirk like him, to work Draco over like he’d been inside Draco’s head, like he knew everything about Draco.

When Harry’s hands slid up to unclasp his cloak he swayed on his feet, more undone by that realisation than anything that had happened in the last few minutes, and Harry reached out to him, steadying him, slipping his arm up underneath Draco’s shirt and rubbing circles there. He could not bide his time anymore, couldn’t imagine taking this slowly the way he had thought he could when Harry had first backed him into his own bedroom and bitten down on his shoulder. He needed to put his mouth on Harry, to know him the way that Harry apparently knew him, to make him cry out the way he very nearly had just bare moments beforehand, and he reached up with both hands without thinking. He brought Harry forward and kissed him, biting at his mouth and breathing his air, and Harry let him, taking the kiss that was offered and changing the tempo, bringing it back down to something still violent at the edges but softer and almost sweet in the centre, soothing the bites over with his tongue and licking along the edges of Draco’s self-control.

He felt more exposed than he’d ever been in his life, standing in his bedroom fully dressed with Harry Potter kissing him like a lover, and his hands clenched uselessly against Harry’s back with each moment that it continued, that it remained a thing that was happening and better yet, happening _to him_.

When Harry did relent and step away, it was only to undress Draco further, to take his own shirt off, to allow the skin to skin contact that Draco craved, and before he knew it he was once again being walked backwards, pushed backwards, and then the back of his knees hit something and he was falling onto his own bed, the sheets as familiar to him as the face in the mirror, and his mind ricocheted ahead of him, wondering, imagining –

And then Harry crawled up the bed towards him and his thoughts were cut off, because this was everything he’d been imagining since he was thirteen years old and just realising that women would never be what he wanted, that most men weren’t even good enough, and that what he wanted, what he wanted –

What he wanted was a saviour.

Harry’s mouth returned to the place he’d bitten when this all began and bit again, harder, the pain suddenly overwhelming and sharp, wonderful in its own way, and he was crying out, hands fisting the sheets, eyes shut, and Harry laughed again, that strange kind of laugh that would seem out of place anywhere other than a bedroom, and he kissed the bite before lifting himself up and straddling Draco’s thighs. Harry looked at him like he was considering his options, pondering what would be the best way to take Draco apart, and Draco wanted to point at that he already had but knew that would seem strange considering Harry hadn’t said anything. So instead he forced himself to hold eye contact, looking into implacable green mostly swallowed by black, before rolling his hips upward, once, twice, thrice. Harry fell forward a little when he did it, not having been prepared for it, catching himself on his hands with his face about a foot from Draco’s, and he felt himself smirk rather than he actually tried to do it, and the look on Harry’s face was glorious.

Harry moved quickly, all those Quidditch honed instincts far more useful here than they had been on the pitch, and if Draco hadn’t been being kissed senseless he would have noticed that Harry was doing it so that he could part Draco’s legs, nestling his weight between them, shifting his whole body forward. He became very aware of it moments later, when Harry rolled his own hips, grinding against him in a way that was so good, so incredible, and he needed more at once.

He pulled Harry’s hand to his face, and watched the confusion cross Harry’s face before smiling and taking two of Harry’s fingers into his mouth, sucking them like he would any cock, knowing that this was one of his best skills and showing off. He took gratification in how it worked on Harry, in how the question he’d been about to ask died on his lips and became a stuttered groan. He loved this feeling, of allowing his partner to take the lead while still being in control like this, taking their arousal and winding it around his fingers or his tongue, knowing how it affected them, knowing how the mastery of this art served him just as much as it did them.

When he was done, Harry’s face was red and his eyes brighter than they had been, and the grinding that had been happening while Draco was sucking on his fingers had gotten deeper, like Harry could fuck him through the clothes they were still both wearing on their bottom halves, like he could bare him with the intensity of his arousal alone. He probably could, if he’d given enough thought to it, but Draco settled for using wandless magic to get rid of their trousers. If there was one spell that was worth knowing how to do wandless, it was that one.

As soon as he’d done so, Harry moved forward again, shifting against him, and oh, that was so much better, so much better being able to feel him, to know the heavy weight of him against his skin. He wondered what Harry’s cock would feel like in his mouth, the texture, the weight, how it would taste, but that was something for another day. If this happened again, of course.

Bearing that in mind, Draco rolled his hips again, bearing down this time instead of up, making clear what he wanted, and Harry just looked at him.

“What do you want?” he said, and it was the first time Harry had spoken throughout this whole exchange. His voice was deeper, gravelly in a way he’d never heard from him before, and he very nearly whined upon hearing it because it made everything a little more real.

“I want _you._ God, Potter, do you want a written invitation?” he heard himself saying, falling back on sarcasm and barbs even now, with his legs wide and his hips tilted up to better help the initial penetration. He knew he wanted it, it was obvious he wanted it, why did he need to say anything at all?

“You really want this?” Harry said, quietly and with a little disbelief colouring his voice, even as he brushed his wet fingers against Draco’s entrance (he noticed that there was lube of some kind as well as saliva, and thanked the stars that Harry knew _something_ of what he was doing).

“I’ve wanted this since third year, you prick, now get on with it.” he said, and that was probably a little bit more truth than this situation called for, but sue him – he still wasn’t really sure this wasn’t a particularly realistic wet dream.

He heard the sharp intake of breath, shut his eyes, waited for the withdrawal, for the warm weight to leave the bed, and instead he was rewarded with two fingers entering him, working their way into him, spreading him open.

“ _Yes, thank you.”_ he moaned, and the fingers scissored, working deeper, searching, finding his prostate and brushing it thoughtfully, brushing it again a little more deliberately when Draco swore and twitched his hips up involuntarily. A third finger joined the two, and the stretch changed to a pleasurable burn that he was very familiar with. He loved the burn, loved it the way he loved sore muscles after a work out, and he bit his lip with a concerted effort not to beg for more fingers, because this was supposed to be about getting fucked by Harry Potter, not his need to get fisted.

“Draco,” Harry started, and then he stopped. Draco opened his eyes. Harry was on his knees, looking at him, his pupils blown wide and his teeth worrying a mark into his bottom lip. He kept looking down at where his fingers were in Draco’s body, and then flickering back up to look at Draco’s face.

“Mm?”

“I’ve wanted this since fourth year.” he said, and then he was withdrawing his fingers, guiding his cock to the space they had just occupied, and Draco’s head was spinning because the implications of that – the _concept_ of that –

And then Harry was in him, pressing inside him, steady and unrelenting, and Draco felt the air being punched out of him like he’d fallen fifty feet, because this was _happening, this was real, and Harry was right there_.

He reached up again, twining his fingers through Harry’s hair, bringing him down to kiss him, throat closed over because there were too many things he could say and not enough ways to say it, and Harry kissed him back, hands on the bed either side of him, rolling his hips into Draco. This had crossed a line from violent sex into something else a while ago, and Draco wasn’t sure when or what it was now, but he felt unbearably tender, like he’d let himself get beaten up and was only just now realising it, his skin feeling tight and painful to wear, his childhood infatuations rushing in to fill the little space left between his body and Harry’s. Harry let his forehead bump into Draco’s in a way that was almost affectionate, still fucking Draco in that irrevocable and almost gentle rhythm, breaking over Draco like waves, and when he came it was still that slow, slow pace he came to, and Harry followed after him, breathing deep and shivering all over, kissing his neck like he was something precious, like this was something Draco deserved. Like he was loved.


End file.
